Dude Looks Like A Lady
by SisterDramamine
Summary: While on a peculiar case, Sam & Dean are transported to an alternate universe. Many things remain the same, but the biggest difference between their universe & this new one is gender. That's right. Sam & Dean are now Samantha & Deanna. How do the brothers, er, "sisters" cope with their new gender? Who sent them here? And will they ever get out? Set [late] in season 6.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor am I affiliated with it or the CW network in any way, shape or form. I'm just a fangirl with a big imagination. **

**A/N: I wrote this as a possible episode that wasn't included into, oh, lets say season 6, or as an "in between episodes" style story. A shorter tale I wrote just for fun, not meant to be long or involved. This is as close to slash as I get. I guess that's all for now (sorry, my brain is fried; I sustained an injury a month ago that's taking it's sweet time to heal & I'm on some good drugs so... I'm blaming any and all typo's, misspellings and grammatical errors on that while I can). Enjoy and don't forget to review! They kind of make my day :)**

Let's get one thing clear. There was nothing ordinary about this case from the get-go. The thing that drew us to this Washington town in the first place was an actual Big Foot sighting. It was less the sighting that intrigued Dean and me, but rather the part where Big Foot picked up a guy and hurled him through the forest where he died from a broken neck.

Some one actually saw this. Or at least, when we talked to the kid, he genuinely believed he saw it.

The man who died in the "incident" was a local by the name Bradley Greenwood, age 37. He ran a tourist shop dedicated to Big Foot. From what we gathered, Bradley was your general, all around jerk who didn't even believe in Big Foot. And a bit of an alcoholic. But that was it.

So Dean and I spent a night out in the woods and didn't even see a bear.

When we emerged into civilization the next day, the papers had an interesting story printed on the front page. A man, Gerry Epson, age 26, was found dead in his apartment. Licked to death. By cats.

Yes, licked to death. By cats. Which was weird, because this guy didn't even own a cat let alone the number of cats it would take to be licked to death by them.

Turns out, Gerry used to be a troubled little boy. Troubled, as in disturbed. He was that weirdo who went around killing the neighbors pets and other small animals. According to his loved ones, Gerry was better now. He hadn't been like that in years. But he was still a flaming asshole and a bit off. Which made me wonder if maybe Gerry was still in the habit of killing things.

So we had Big Foot and a mysterious vengeful spirit on the loose.

While Dean and I were trying to figure out how the hell a hundred cats got into Gerry's apartment in the first place, a completely new one popped up. A man, Noris Renfield, age 54, had his face ripped off by, get this, Velma. As in, Scooby-Doo Velma. While the entire Mystery gang watched.

Noris didn't die, but he won't be talking for a while. The dirt on Noris wasn't completely unlike the first two in the sense that he seemed to be an all around dick. Apparently he was a bit of a swindler. He'd make up elaborate stories if he knew he would gain something from it. Supposedly he recently dressed up like a ghost to scare some people away from buying the house he was supposed to inherit, which kind of explains the Scooby-Doo gang. Kind of.

When Noris's curious case arose, both Dean and I began to grow suspicious. What are the chances we're hunting three separate things in one little town? So we dug around for something that connected the victims, and what we found was this: the dim, rustic tavern Dean and I are currently stationed where we ponder these strange events over a cold beer. This bar is the single thing these guys had in common. Something is almost always better than nothing.

"Maybe we should call Bobby on this one," Dean suggests as he loosens his red tie from around his neck. "I'm freakin' stumped."

"Yeah," I somewhat agree, my eyes glancing around the establishment before they settle on the petite brunette behind the bar. "Maybe we're dealing with a witch?"

"I don't know," Dean doesn't share my theory. "Witches are usually more, I don't know, brutal. Bloody. This stuff's just flat out weird. Almost laughable."

I silently nod. It is kind of laughable, once you look past the fact that people got hurt or died.

"I don't know, man," Dean continues between sips from his brown bottle. "I'm having a hard time putting a rush on this one. I mean, I feel bad these poor bastards went out the way they did. But it kind of sounds like they had it coming."

From what those who knew them closest told us, it's kind of true.

"Fair enough," I nod again. "It's almost like they got their..."

It hits me like a punch to the gut by Mike Tyson. Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

"Got their what?" Dean cocks a brow at me as my face falls and my heart rate spikes.

"Dean, we need to get out of here," I pull my black jacket from the back of the chair and tug at my older brother's sleeves.

"Why?" he hasn't caught on yet. "I'm not done with my beer."

"Dean," I growl, my tone low as I stare him down. "These guys got their just desert."

It doesn't take him even a full second to realize what that always means. Trickster. A.k.a. Gabriel. A.k.a. Loki, depending on who you ask.

"On second thought, I think I'm done with my beer," he reassesses his plans and swiftly follows me towards the exit.

I swing the green, metal door open and, as we pass the threshold, a brilliant, blinding white light consumes us. It lasts a second, maybe two, and once it's gone I find we've made it into the parking lot. At a quick glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. The Impala is still there, the evening air is still crisp and we're still breathing.

I blink over at Dean to see if he can tell what's going on, but Dean's not there. Instead I'm standing beside a slender brunette woman with long, full bodied dark hair and hazel green eyes. She wears slim fitted dark denim jeans tucked into a pair of thick black boots, along with a dark blue hoodie beneath a chic black leather jacket. I have no friggin' clue who this woman is, and by the way she looks at me, I'm just as much of a strange surprise as she is to me.

"Who are you?" we question each other in unison.

That was weird. My voice sounded... higher pitched. I study the woman who studies me back.

"I'm, uh," I fumble, my thoughts becoming distracted by how strange my voice sounds right now. "I'm Sam."

"Sam?" the woman cocks her head as she echoes my name. "It's me, it's Dean."

That is so not a good sign.

"Dude," the woman, 'Dean', giggles. "You're a chick." She pauses when she pieces the last five minuets together. "Wait... what's wrong with my voice? If you didn't recognize me... oh my god..."

He, she, whatever this person is, looks down at her chest and sees the pair of perky breasts.

"Oh... my... god..." my brother/sister moans before turning to me, her face stricken with utter horror. "Dude, kick me."

"What?" I wrinkle my brow.

"Kick me," this female Dean begs.

"Uh... where?" I ask, my eyes distracted by my French manicured fingernails on my dainty fingers. "Also, why?"

"Between the legs," she states. "I need to see if the guys are still down there."

"I'm not going to kick you, Dean," I break it to her/him. "Not only am I pretty positive at this point that the guys are no longer there, I can think of a far less painful way to check yourself."

"Oh, god," Dean moans again. "What happened to us? What did Gabriel do to us!?"

"I wish I knew," I say with a long, heavy sigh.

It might not show on the outside, but I assure you, I am completely freaking out on the inside. One minuet I was regular old Sam, same as I'd been my whole life. And now, suddenly and quite unexpectedly, I'm a girl.

If this is one of Gabriel's jokes, I don't get it. And it's far from funny.

"Let's just try to calm down," I attempt to soothe Dean's anxieties with a smooth tone.

"Calm down!?" girl Dean fumes, kicking gravel as she yells. "Calm down!? How the hell do you expect me to calm down!? I'm in a completely different gender right now than I was when I woke up this morning and you're telling me to calm down!?"

We receive awkward stares from a passing young couple who casually stroll to the tavern's entrance.

"What are you looking at?" Dean barks at them before turning her gaze back on me. "What are we going to do, Sam?"

"I... I don't know," I admit, rubbing my temples with my fingers.

That's when I notice the long, light brown hair that falls around my shoulders. My fingers graze my ears and find them to be pierced with some sort of stud earrings. This just keeps getting worse and worse.

"I'm going back in there," Dean tells me, her fingers balling into hard, angry fists. "I'm gonna find that son of a bitch and I'm going to make him fix us."

"Do you even think he's still in there?" I question, but Dean doesn't listen. She desperately wants to be a he again. So I follow her because, really, I don't want to be a girl either.

Of course, Gabriel is no where to be found. Surprise is lost on me by this. No way he would make it that easy for us.

Something strange I do notice is the bartender. I could have sworn there was a petite brunette woman working the taps. Now it's a short, muscular brunette man.

Could have been a shift change, I tell myself, but I can't dismiss the oddity of this. Not entirely. Partially because of what's just happened to Dean and myself, but also because this new bartender looks like he could be the girl's brother.

"Let's go back to the motel," I suggest, tugging at Dean's jacket sleeve as I speak. "Regroup. Figure out what to do next."

"Yeah, fine," Dean grumbles, but instead of turning towards the exit, she turns to the bar. "I'm gonna need a drink first."

**(AN: "How could it be Gabriel?" you might be asking. "Lucifer killed him in Season 5." I assure you, I remember that. All will be explained in due time.)**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sits cross legged on the bed with a painful expression laced across her face, a thin line of sweat crossing her brow as she looks between me and open bathroom door.

"What is wrong with you?" I grumble shortly.

"You mean besides the fact that I'm a friggin' girl?" Dean whimpers back. "I... I have to pee."

"Don't let me stop you," is my response and Dean scowls.

"But... but..." she begins to whine.

"We're stuck like this for now," I point out our predicament. "God only knows how long it's going to take us to find Gabriel and make this right. You might as well relieve yourself now before your bladder explodes."

Dean ponders this. She knows I'm right, but it doesn't make her any less wary of using the restroom in her current gender.

"Fine," she bursts at last, making a mad dash for the bathroom.

I lay my head on the pillow of my motel bed and close my eyes. I don't know how the hell we're going to get out of this one. For all intents and purposes, Gabriel skipped town the moment he turned us into women. I still don't get the joke, but at this point I don't care. I just want to be back in my own body.

"God this is so friggin' weird," Dean commentates from beyond the bathroom door. "I've never had to sit down to pee before."

I don't need to hear this.

"Oh... my god..." her voice continues to panic long after I hear the toilet flush. "I'm really a chick."

She found the mirror. I myself have been avoiding my own reflection. I don't want to know what I look like in this package. I really don't.

"You know what I just thought of?" Dean asks as she opens the bathroom door.

"What?" I question shortly, sitting up to look at the girl version of my brother. I don't mean to sound irritated, but I can't really hide the fact that this is the most irritating thing that stupid angel has ever done to us.

"Didn't Lucifer kill Gabriel?" Dean goes on.

"Uh, yeah," I recall. "I guess he didn't."

"What if we're not dealing with an angel here," Dean suggests. "Maybe we're looking at an actual trickster god."

"Maybe," I slowly agree. "You know of any pagan god with enough mojo to reverse our genders?"

"Well, no," Dean admits. "Not off the top of my head. I'm just looking at every possibility here. I'd really like to get back to my regular body."

"Yeah, me too," I sigh. "Maybe we should call Cas."

"Good idea," Dean quickly agrees. "If anyone knows how to fix us, he will."

"Obviously," I roll my eyes. Dean scowls at me.

"Hey, man," she begins. "Don't get all PMSy on me. I'm not exactly thrilled to be like this either."

Fair enough.

"Dear Castiel," Dean begins, her eyes staring up at the ceiling as she speaks. "It's me, Dean. Look man, we could really use your help over here. I think Gabriel did something to Sammy and me. We need you to help us fix it."

She pauses, allowing the motel room to fill with a hopeful silence while we wait for the angel to appear.

"Cas?" Dean questions. "You there? Come on, man. We really, really need your help on this one."

She pauses again. Nothing. Not even a sign that Cas heard her.

"I'll try Bobby," I suggest, digging through my denim jacket pocket for my cell phone. When my fingers grace what feels like a phone, I pull it out and study the pink, rhinestone decorated device.

"Oh, you've got to be joking me," I sigh as I stare at the object. Dean's first reaction is to smirk, something that disappears when she realizes her phone is probably just as frilly as mine. She pulls her own device out of her pocket and breathes a long sigh of relief when she finds her phone is decorated mostly in black with a white, blue and purple argyle pattern.

"I'm just glad it's not covered in pink," she tells me. Pause. "Are these even our phones?"

I scroll through my contacts list. A lot of names seem familiar but I can't put a face to the names. Other's are completely unknown to me. Who the hell is Aunt B?

"Can I start freaking out yet?" Dean asks when I remain silent, attempting to find any indication that these devices belong to us.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" I ask him, knowing fully well we've both been freaking out this entire time. "Let's just drive out to Bobby's and see if he can help us."

"I'd rather stay and track down Gabriel," Dean confesses.

"We're not even sure if it is Gabriel anymore," I point out. "If it is, we can use that angel summoning spell."

"Fine," Dean begrudgingly grumbles. She pauses, her face turning thoughtful. "You don't think it'll look weird checking out of here, do you?"

"What do you mean?" I question.

"You know," she says. "Two dudes check in, two chicks check out."

She's got a point. I sigh and unzip my duffel bag to retrieve my toothbrush. Peering inside of the bag, I realize Dean's concern may not be valid.

"Uh, Dean," I nervously begin as I rummage my bag and extract a powder blue lace bra. The way Dean stares at this, she looks like she's going to be sick. Anxiously she opens her own bag and hurriedly spills its contents onto her bed. What falls out is a small wardrobe of feminine clothing; skinny jeans, fitted t-shirts, a little black dress, skimpy lace panties. A bag full of makeup and a hairdryer. Tampons.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dean gasps, tearing through the pile of things she now seems to possess.

She grabs her stack of badges and cards, her expression rapidly falling as she looks them over.

"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder," she tells me. "Jamie Hendrix, FBI. Joanie Cash, CIA. Lenore Kravitz, Homeland Security..."

That is weird.

"Let's just get out of here," I suggest, helping Dean heave her clothes back into her duffel bag. "The sooner we get to Bobby, the sooner we can get out of these genders."

We pack our things into the Impala before we return the keys to the front desk where the young male attendant gives us a disappointed look.

"You ladies leaving already?" he asks us as we relinquish our room keys.

"What do you mean?" Dan asks with a confused expression on her face while I study the motel clerk. "You've seen us before?"

"Well, yeah," the dark haired, doe eyed man blinks back at us. "I'm the one who checked you in the other day."

That's weird. I could have sworn we were checked in by a doe eyed young woman.

"I was kind of hoping you'd be staying a while longer," the young man confesses with a shy tone. "I know a lot of cool places I'd love to show you."

Oh lord, he's hitting on us. Now I'm going to be sick.

"Uh... family emergency," Dean tells the clerk as she begins to slowly back away. "Maybe next time."

Quickly we make our exit back into the morning sun that beats down on the motel parking lot.

"Stop me if you've heard this before," Dean begins as she unlocks the driver's side door. "But this just keeps getting weirder and weirder. That guy checked us in? I coulda sworn we were checked in by a girl."

My thoughts exactly.

"At least we've got the Impala," she continues as we slide into the car. She turns the key to start the ignition and the sounds that fill the speakers are awful. Awful even for Dean. It's not his usual classic rock, but rather something a lot more poppy. Like, New Kids On The Block poppy.

"Amazing," I can't help but comment. "Your taste in music as a girl is actually worse."

"Shut up," Dean rolls her eyes as she turns the volume way, way down. "I'm done talking about this until we get to Bobby's."

Yeah, right.

Not to sound too repetitive, but this whole awkward situation really is snowballing. How much weirder could it really get though? At this point, I think we're maxed out on strange for the week.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm still not sure what's going on here," Dean tells me as she steers the Impala into the familiar territory of south east South Dakota.

Two days stuck in female bodies and we still can't quite put our finger on what exactly has been done to us.

"We're almost to Bobby's," I say. "He should be able to help us sort this out."

At least I hope he can help us.

I was wrong when I said we had reached our limit of weird. Half the bands we know no longer exist, or rather never did in the first place. In fact, after a little web searching, the bands that do remain all have different members, mostly female. Johnny Cash, for instance, is actually Joanie Cash. There's no such thing as a Lady Gaga, but Lord Gaga is alive, kicking and just as strange. Even the actors and actresses have all changed. No more Jonah Hill, Brad Pitt or Courtney Cox. Now there's Joanne Hill, Barbie Pitt and Cory Cox.

Which means we're probably in some kind of alternate universe. Which is something I don't even want to think about, not until we get to Bobby's and see if he's still... you know... he.

And if you were wondering, I finally mustered up the courage to look at my own reflection. The best way to describe myself in this gender is if I were born a girl. I'm still tall with brown hair and blueish, hazely eyes. Only my features are a lot more feminine.

When we finally reach the old man's house, it looks a lot different. The structure itself is the same, but less dilapidated and dreary. And the lot isn't filled with random cars and auto parts, but rather a lush and vast garden surrounded by a sturdy fence constructed from chicken wire and oak wood slats. There's even a small barn for the animals that wander the property beyond the garden; chickens, goats, a couple of cows and a horse. That's just what's behind the house. The front yard looks like a miniature orchard.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," Dean admits as we wander through the clean, thriving property towards the front door.

I don't say anything, but I've got the same sinking feeling in my own gut.

"If there's one good thing about all this," Dean begins as we knock on Bobby's front door. "It's that we at least make some pretty hot chicks."

"God I wish you hadn't said that," I mutter as the door swings open.

The person standing in the doorway isn't the old man I was praying we'd see. Instead stands an aging woman in her mid fifties with graying brownish red hair pulled back in a bun. She wears dirt stained overalls strapped over a red plaid shirt and tan work boots caked in mud. The smile she wears upon seeing us tells me she knows us.

"Why hello, girls," the pleasantly plump woman speaks. "Ya find Big Foot?"

"B-Bobby?" Dean mutters, her eyes growing wide at what they find. The woman cocks a curious brow at her as she folds her arms across her chest.

"Who'd ya expect?" the woman replies. "Mrs. Clause?" Pause. "Ain't been called that in a while, though. Got so used to you calling me Aunt B I forgot people even used to call me Bobby."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Dean wheels back a few steps and clutches her stomach.

"Oh great," the woman Bobby rolls her eyes. "You forget to take your birth control again?"

"What?" Dean furrows her brows. "No. Wait, what do you mean 'again'?"

Bobby's brows crease as she scans us over through narrowed eyes.

"What's gotten into you two?" she wonders suspiciously.

"Alternate universe?" Dean mutters to me and I nod.

"It's looking that way," I whisper back before returning my attention to lady Bobby. "Something kind of weird happened to us. Mind if we come in?"

"'Course not," Bobby replies, standing aside to let us in. "Hell, I don't know why you even bothered knocking."

We wander through the house and find the place to be organized, clean and bright. Not the cluttered, dusty and dim place we're accustom to. Refreshing, but still disillusioning.

"You girls want anything to drink?" Bobby asks us sweetly as she walks towards the kitchen. Dean and I both shudder.

"I'll take a tall glass of whiskey," Dean says and Bobby raises a brow.

"Whiskey?" she echoes. "You know I'm a wine and vodka kind of gal."

Bile actually rises to my throat. Dean cringes.

"Tall glass of whatever alcohol you've got then," Dean says.

I glance about the bright room, my eyes taking in what girl Bobby's house looks like. My eyes fall to a particular photograph that sits in a silver frame on Bobby's organized desk. The female versions of my brother and I stand on either side of a younger blonde male with a wide smile, each of his arms wrapped around our shoulders. Standing just behind me in the picture is a skinny woman with long, wavy dirty blonde hair wearing daisy dukes and a red plaid shirt tied up to expose her slender stomach. Her arms are folded in this picture and, judging by her playfully sour expression, her eyes were mid-roll when the camera went off.

Dean comes up behind me, her eyes on the same photo.

"Who are those people?" she mutters curiously.

"Like I would know," I return, although I have to admit, the background looks eerily familiar. I remove the photograph from it's clean frame and flip it over, my jaw nearly dropping when I read what's been written in black ink on the back.

Deanna W., Joe H., Samantha W., Ashley H. Roadhouse, 2006.

"Holy crap," Dean mutters over my shoulder. "That's Jo and Ash."

"You girl's hungry?" Bobby calls from the kitchen. "I baked a pear cobbler just this morning."

"Hell yeah," Dean becomes distracted with the thought of food and swiftly excuses herself into the kitchen.

I'll admit, I'm hungry. I'm just still trying to digest... well... everything.

When I do wander into the kitchen, Dean, or rather, Deanna, is sitting at the table giving a wary look at the glass set before her filled mostly with vodka and a splash of red that marbles it's way through the alcohol.

"What's this red stuff in my drink?" Dean questions.

"Cranberry juice," Bobby replies as she places a plate of cobbler in front of him. "You know, the way you usually drink it. Sammy, what would you like to drink? I've got a decent Chardonnay in the fridge."

"Vodka," I reply. "Just vodka, please." I pause, my mind flashing to that photograph on Bobby's desk. What else, I wonder, is different about this universe? "Say, uh, Aunt B," I speak as the older woman places a short glass of vodka on the rocks in front of me before taking a seat across the table from us with a cool glass of white wine. "What do you remember about our dad?"

"I never met your dad," Bobby replies between sips from her glass. "He died before I even met your mother. You knew that."

"Our mom...?" Dean can't quite tell what this means.

"Yeah," Bobby cocks a brow, her suspicions on the rise. "You know, Joan Winchester?"

"Right, of course," I shake my head before taking a long gulp from my vodka glass.

"You girls alright?" Bobby questions and I can see her arm reach under the table for the gun I know is strapped to the other side. "You said something happened in Washington? I'm guessing it wasn't really Big Foot?"

"Yeah, not exactly," Dean sighs, taking a sip of his cranberry splashed vodka. "Hey, this actually pretty good."

I can hear the shot gun come loose from its holster and, within the blink of an eye, Bobby's got the barrel aimed right at us.

"Alright," she says, far more than suspicious. "Who are you and what have you done with Deanna and Samantha?"

That's quite a question. We're not Deanna and Samantha, we're Dean and Sam. Although, in this universe, Dean and Sam are Deanna and Samantha. So, we're not them, but we are them.

How do you explain that to a paranoid old hunter?

"Woah, woah," Dean responds, her hands held up to show she's not armed. "Let's just calm down now, 'Aunt B'. If you'd just let us explain, everything will make a lot more sense."

Bobby eyes us with caution, uncertain if she believes us or not.

"It's us," I say at last when she doesn't lower her weapon. "Sort of."

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" Bobby demands to know.

"It wasn't Big Foot," Dean begins. "It was a trickster. We think it was Gabriel and I think he did something to us."

Bobby's brows furrow.

"Gabriel's dead," is what 'Aunt B' informs us. "Lucifer killed _her_."

"We're starting to wonder if Lucifer actually killed, um, her," I go on.

"Well?" Bobby presses, her aim never wavering. "What do you think Gabriel did to you?"

"I know how weird this sounds," Dean says. "But I think we're in the wrong universe."

She still doesn't completely trust we're "us", but the idea she finds at least a little intriguing. Interesting enough for her to lower her weapon some.

"What do you mean you're in the wrong universe?" she wants us to elaborate.

"As in, a few days ago, we were guys," Dean finishes. "And all of a sudden, we're accidentally chasing Gabriel and he sent us into this one." Pause. "Either that or we got slipped the weirdest drug ever and this is just one very long, giant trip."

"How do I know you ain't lyin'?" Bobby wants to know.

"Look," Dean says. "Everyone in this universe has pretty much the opposite gender and name as they do in ours. Where we're from, we're Sam and Dean Winchester. Our parents were John and Mary Winchester. Your name is Robert Singer."

Bobby chews this over for a moment before slowly lowering her gun.

"So you're from another universe?" she tries to clarify the bizarre situation.

"Yes," I breath. "And we were hoping you'd be able to help us figure out how to get back there."

"You're an expert on this kind of stuff in this universe too, right?" Dean asks hopefully as Bobby rolls her eyes.

"Multi-universal travel, no," she says. "But if you mean the other weird crap, then hell yeah I am." Pause. "You try to get a hold of Cas?"

"That was the third thing we did," Dean says. "Right after trying to track down Gabriel and freaking the hell out."

"I'd say keep trying," Bobby suggests, taking a long sip from her glass. "I'll dig through my collection and see if I can find anything. In the mean time, you girls go get some sleep. You look like you've been up for days."

We have. You try sleeping after you find yourself trapped in the opposite gender.


	4. Chapter 4

"This is easily the weirdest and most difficult thing I've ever had to do," Dean comments as she attempts to stroke a mascara wand over her eyelashes. "Girls really do this every day?"

A couple days have passed without word from Castiel and not a damn thing about alternate universe travel in any of the books "Aunt B" has flipped through. The internet isn't much help as far as that subject goes. To everyone else on the planet, what we've done is still technically just a theory.

"You know what's harder than putting makeup on?" I ask as I literally powder my nose, sharing the mirror in the upstairs bathroom. "Taking it off. I think I spent a half hour the other day just getting the mascara off my lashes."

"Are we seriously having this conversation right now?" Dean pauses in her task.

"Hey man," I shake my head. "This was your idea."

"Shut up," Dean hisses, returning to applying her makeup. "What's so wrong with wanting to look nice in public?"

"Do you even think the library will have anything Aunt B doesn't?" I question and Dean shrugs, returning her mascara to the blue makeup bag on the counter.

"It's worth a shot," she insists. "I'd like this to be the first and only time I put on makeup." She pauses to apply a thin coat of red lipstick to her lips. "You know what I miss most? My..."

"You don't have to say it," I swiftly interrupt and she sends me a questioning glance in the mirror.

"Led Zeppelin tapes," she finishes. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"I donno," I shrug. "But that's not what I miss the most."

"Well, that too," she rolls her eyes, catching my drift. "Come help me figure out what to wear."

I frown as I follow the female version of my brother out of the bathroom and into the guest bedroom.

"I'm starting to worry you're getting a little too comfortable in this gender," I comment and Dean rolls her eyes.

"I don't know how girls dress," is her excuse.

"Yeah, this is too weird," I comment. "Even for me. You're on your own. I'm going downstairs for breakfast."

While he fights it, the estrogen seems to slowly be taking over my brother. The last couple of days we've spent hiding out at Aunt B's, I've noticed Dean doing a few feminine things; she gasped and whined over a broken nail, read articles in a Cosmo and, just last night, I caught her watching a show called _Sex & Other Tales From The City_, which is the equivalent to our universe's _Sex In The City_. And that's just the stuff I've noticed.

In our universe, Dean's a total dude. You may have noticed his habit for red meat, whiskey and busty Asian beauties. My theory is that, since he's a total guy in our universe, maybe this version of him is a total girl. At least, enough of a girl to be drawn to things like women magazines and boy bands.

As far as I'm concerned, I haven't personally noticed much of a difference. Which is actually kind of concerning, since I doubt Dean realizes exactly what she's doing. All I know is I've developed a taste for white wine. That's not too girlie, right?

Aunt B is in the kitchen when I get there, her hands busy pouring batter into a hot waffle iron.

"Morning," I greet her, helping myself to a glass of fresh orange juice while she finishes the breakfast preparations.

"Good morning," she replies cheerfully, giving me a welcoming smile. "Deanna up yet?"

"Yeah," I nod. "She's getting dressed. We're going to head to the library for a bit."

"Alright," Aunt B nods. "Just make sure you make it back in time for lunch. I'm making stuffed peppers."

I give woman Bobby a small, kind smile. I can see why we, this universe we, refer to her as Aunt B. When Dean and I first showed up, we didn't even ask to stay. But she insisted we make use of the guest room and has cooked us every meal since.

"If it's not too much trouble," Aunt B begins as she slices ripe strawberries with a sharp pairing knife. "I could use your help out in the garden later. I've let the weeds grow a little too long, they're starting to choke the beans."

"I think we can manage that," I respond. "It's the least we can do for all your help."

"I've been wondering," Aunt B speaks. "If you're in this universe, do you think the real Samantha and Deanna are in yours?"

"That's a good question," I admit. "I wish Cas would answer our prayers. If anyone knows anything about how this stuff works, it's an angel."

"What smells so good down here?" Dean joins us, dressed in dark denim jeans and a white tank top. "Ooh, waffles."

She hungrily eyes the elaborate spread all laid out on the kitchen counter.

"So, I totally appreciate that you've taken us in like this," my brother/sister begins while Aunt B proceeds to plate our home cooked meal. "But would it kill you to use a little meat?"

Now that she mentions it, we haven't had a single bite of meat since we wound up in this universe. It obviously bothers Dean a lot more than it bothers me.

"Well, no," Aunt B replies as she sets the food filled plates on the kitchen table. "But I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why?" Dean wants to know as we all take a seat.

"You're a vegetarian," is Aunt B's simple response. Dean's face falls.

"Really?" she chokes sadly and Bobby nods.

"For fifteen years now," she says before taking a large bite of food. "So if you're thinkin' about breakin' that streak, you should know your body won't be able to digest it."

Dean furrows her brows.

"So, if I went and ate a cheeseburger...?" she wants to know exactly what would happen to her.

"You'd throw up," I respond and Aunt B nods to confirm this.

Dean sits in a thoughtful silence for a moment or two, quietly chewing a bite of waffle as she ponders her new eating habits.

"Oh, Castiel," she prays at last. "Angel of the Lord. Get your lazy ass down here. Sammy and I really, really, really need you."

"It's not the makeup or the skinny jeans," I begin with an amused tone. "But the lack of meat that's bothering you?"

"Call it a last straw," Dean defends herself.

"I am here, Deanna," a female speaks and our attention snaps to the slender, young looking woman with piercing blue eyes, full pink lips and long wavy dark hair that spills elegantly around her shoulders.

Of course Cas is a girl in this universe. I don't know why I would have expected otherwise. Maybe I assumed there was only one heaven amongst these infinite universes.

This woman version of the angel dresses in a white collared shirt left unbuttoned to expose a spectacular amount of cleavage, along with a form fitting gray skirt that falls just above her knees and a pair of black high healed shoes. Oddly enough, she also wears a tan trench coat. It's actually somewhat comforting to see the stupid coat. It's the one normal thing I've seen in days.

"What is so important you've been praying to me consistently for?" she wants to know as she stares over Dean and myself.

"Dude," Dean whispers. "Is it wrong I think Cas is hot in this universe?"

"On so many levels," I shudder.

No amount of alcohol will ever scrub that sentence out of my mind.

"You look different," Cas tells us, her eyes narrowing as she studies us closer.

"That's because we are," Dean says. "We're in the wrong universe."

For a minuet, Cas says nothing as she silently attempts to determine our sincerity.

"I thought you were just playing a practical joke on me," she admits at last. "But I can see the predicament you're in. Tell me, who sent you here?"

I guess, if there's one good thing about angels, you give them a bizarre situation and they don't really hesitate to believe it. If anything, they brush it off like it's a normal, every day problem. No questions asked.

"We're not sure," I begin slowly. "But we think it was Gabriel."

"Impossible," Cas says. "Gabriel is dead. Lucifer killed her."

"Er, right," I agree. "But Gabriel's faked his, sorry, _her_ death several times."

"You all thought she was dead for, what, two thousand years?" Dean jumps in. "I've personally watched, uh, her 'die' twice."

"You have a point," Cas admits.

"I'm thinkin' we call the son of a bitch to us," Dean proposes and Cas shakes her head.

"No," she instructs us. "If Gabriel is alive, we don't want to call her out of hiding. There are things much worse an arch angel can do than transport a soul to another universe."

"Can you help us?" Dean gives Cas a hopeful glance.

"I certainly will try," Cas tells us, something that doesn't really inspire all that much hope. "I will search for Gabriel. In the mean time, I need you to write down every detail about your universe while I find a way to get you back should I fail to uncover Gabriel. I need to know exactly what universe you belong in."

"You can send us back to our universe?" Dean swells with excitement.

"There are ways I can transport another soul to another universe," Cas begins slowly, her hesitant tone cutting our hopes in half. "But there are risks involved. It's best the one who did this to you put you back, as they are the only one who knows exactly where you belong."

"What you're telling us, then," I say, "is that you're chances of sending us to a third universe is...?"

"High," Cas breaks it to us.

"Screw the library," Dean says. "I'm staying here and writing down everything I know about our universe. Cas, you start looking for Gabriel."

The familiar sound of rustling wings carries the angel away without so much as a goodbye. Judging by her wordless exit, it doesn't seem to matter what gender Cas is. Cas is Cas. Which is actually really comforting.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank's to all for the lovely reviews! When I first started this, I debated long and hard about actually posting it. I wasn't sure how well received it would be. Turns out, really freaking well. :) I hope you all continue to enjoy the weirdest story I've ever dreamed up while we secretly wish an episode similar to this happens ;) **

"Ugh. I think there's something wrong with me."

Dean withers in discomfort from the drivers seat.

We're staking out in front of home whose residents have the misfortune of experiencing a nightly revenant visitor in the greater Minneapolis area. A week without word from Cas led Aunt B to start dishing out potential cases.

"You're stuck for now," she told us. "You might as well get back to work while we sort this out."

Fair enough I guess.

"I feel all... all bloated and stuff," Dean keeps complaining as I watch the dark, two story brick house through a pair of black binoculars.

"It's probably the convenient store nachos," is what I tell her, but now that she mentions it, my jeans do feel a little tighter than they already are.

"My boobs hurt," she shares, a comment that causes me to lower my spy gear.

"How is it almost two weeks later and this just keeps getting weirder?" I have to ponder and Dean shrugs.

"Beats me," she says. "Pass me that soda. I need some caffeine."

As requested I pass her the thirty two ounce blue and white plastic cup filled with ice cold cola. She takes a long sip from the translucent straw and, as quickly as she takes it in, spits it back out.

"What is this?" she sputters.

"Cola," I state and she rolls her eyes.

"I know that," she insists. "You got me regular. I wanted diet."

"First of all, you didn't ask for diet," I return impatiently. "You just said cola, which is weird enough considering you normally drink coffee. Second, when did you start drinking diet?"

"I'm watching my figure," is Dean's excuse and I can't help but give her a long stare. "Like I said, I feel fat."

"New rule," I say shortly. "No more talking unless one of us sees a revenant."

"What's with you today?" Dean doesn't take my words as seriously as my tone. "You've literally been a bitch all damn day."

"I'm just... not in a good mood," I explain, slowly shaking my head.

It's true. I've been in a funk all day with no cause to my foul mood. No cause beyond the fact we're still stuck as women, anyway.

"You know what we should have gotten at the store?" Dean continues when I don't elaborate.

"Pie," I guess.

"No, actually," she says. "I was going to say chocolate."

Chocolate actually sounds amazing right now.

"Or some ice cream," she lists wishfully. "Maybe some chocolate chip cookie dough."

"No wonder you feel fat," I say, returning the binoculars to eye level.

Only, it all sounds good. You know what else sounds good? All of that with a comfortable spot on the couch and some bad romance movies.

Who's thoughts are these?

I shake my head as a slow yawn escapes my lips. On top of my unexplainably terrible mood and the random cravings for junk food, I've been sleepy all day long. Not exhausted but mostly kind of drained. Maybe we've contracted some weird type of alternate universe flu?

"Dude," Dean nudges me, forcing my focus to return to the house. "We got company."

My gaze falls back to the house in time to spy a blonde woman in her early thirties boldly walk through the shadows towards the two story brick home. Her pale skin looks almost translucent next to the black dress that rustles pleasantly in a soft breeze as she wanders the front yard before deciding to slink her way to the back of the house.

"Is that her?" Dean questions me and I glance down at the obituary clipping that rests between us.

"Sure looks like her," I comment.

"You managed to talk her husband and kids into taking off for the night, right?" Dean wants to be certain this woman's family won't have the misfortune of watching us kill their loved one for a second time.

"Yes, Dean," I roll my eyes.

"Good," she nods. "Let's go."

Attempting to stifle away my wretched mood, I follow Dean into the street while I keep a long, sharp machete as well hidden as I can. A clicking sound echoes in the night and it takes me a minuet to realize where it's coming from; Dean's feet. They're adorned in black high heels.

"Really!?" I try not to cry as I stare at her choice in footwear. "You're wearing heels to a hunt?"

"What?" Dean furrows her brows as we dart into the shadows of the front lawn. "They go with the outfit."

Ah, yes. The skin tight "jeggings", the sea blue tank top and short black leather jacket that took her an entire half hour to pick out. Compared to the white t-shirt, fitted jeans, light green jacket and brown work boots that took me five minuets to assemble.

"Cas wears heals," she continues to make excuses.

"This universe's Cas has probably been doing it for a hell of a lot longer," I point out, attempting to keep a low tone as we sneak around the house. "Also, Cas is an angel. I don't think footwear is as important to them as it is to us."

"What about all those super hero chicks?" Dean says and I roll my eyes. "They all wear heels."

"The imaginary ones?" I sigh. "You know, I'm not sure what's more surprising right now; the fact that you actually chose to wear heels to a hunt or the fact that you can actually walk in them."

"I practiced a little at Aunt B's," she easily confesses without hesitation.

I can't help the long, questioning glance this causes me to send her.

"What?" she shrugs. "I wasn't doing anything else. I was curious."

I shake my head at the conversation at hand before trying to draw my focus back to the revenant wandering the back yard in search for signs of life in the dark house.

"Can you believe they buried her in that?" Dean whispers to me as we peer at the creature from around a corner and I can't help the frown that crosses my brows.

"What?" I wrinkle my nose at her comment.

"I mean, it's black," she goes on. "Who buries their wife in black? And look how loosely it fits her. It's not very flattering. It makes her arms look kind of flabby."

"Are you seriously criticizing what a monster is wearing right now?" I question before shaking my head, despite the small part of me that agrees with her. "Never mind. Let's just go cut her head off and get out of here."

I do a quick sweep of the surrounding area, making sure the neighborhood watch isn't currently observing this portion of the street. When I find no prying eyes, Dean and I swiftly dart out from around the house and begin our silent advance upon the monster whose back is, at the moment, turned. Which is, of course, when Dean finds instability in her footwear. Before I know what's going on, Dean's face down on the lawn, her machete laying in the grass a few feet from her hand and the revenant is more than aware of our presence.

"Do me a favor," I hiss as I twist the hilt of my own blade in my hand before bringing it back some, as if I were preparing to hit a baseball. "Don't ever wear heels to a hunt again."

The revenant lets loose a low growl as it comes towards us at an incredible speed. I haven't dealt with many revenants, but I do know a thing or two about them. The easiest way to describe these creatures is a cross between a ghost and a vampire. Like ghosts, they have a general tendency to pester their surviving family and friends, and they don't rely on any kind of sustenance to, er, "survive" (i.e., food, blood, souls, etcetera, etcetera), for a lack of a better term. Like vampires, they're undead (which means they have physical bodies), fast as hell and, to take one down, you have to cut off its head. What makes them truly unique to ghosts and vampires is the fact you also have to cut out their heart.

Of course she won't allow me to just slice her head off her shoulders. That would be way too easy and revenants are dead, not stupid. She doesn't even come at me, not when she sees Dean on the ground spitting dirt and grass from between her red lips.

I curse Dean and her choice in shoes as I bolt towards them, watching the creature attempt to gather my brother/sister in her arms. The monster pulls Dean to her feet before I can swing in and knock the blonde off of my older sibling. She stumbles back a few steps as I swing my blade which makes contact with her arm. I draw a good amount of blood, but this is, to the revenant, only a flesh wound, and she turns her advances upon me. Lashing out with impossibly long finger nails she manages to strike my face hard enough to produce three thin scratches across my cheek, but Dean won't let her do any more damage than that.

From behind I notice Dean swing her own blade. It looks like a good shot until, once again, Dean looses footing in her terrible shoes and falls. At least this time she takes the revenant with her. The monster falls much like Dean does, face down on the grassy ground. Before it has a chance to struggle to its feet, I make a fluid downward swoop with my blade and clean the monster's head from her shoulders.

"That wasn't so bad," Dean comments as she stands up, brushing dirt from her clothes as I heave a heavy sigh of aggravated relief.

"You fell twice," I point out, dropping my machete to dig out a large dagger from the inner pocket of my jacket which I pass to Dean. "I got her head, you get her heart."

"Rock paper scissors," Dean challenges and I roll my eyes.

"Just do it," I thrust the smaller blade into her hands.

I'm beyond ready for a few hours of shut eye, which means I'm far from in the mood to argue who's turn it is to cut open the monster.

"Fine," Dean grumbles, stooping down to finish the job. "What are we supposed to do with the body?"

He makes a good point. Can't just leave a monster corpse in the back yard. Not here.

"Looks like we'll have an extra passenger for a few miles," I shrug, watching as Dean digs out the revenant's heart and carelessly tosses it onto the ground beside the corpse.

"Go get a shovel," she instructs me. "We'll leave the heart here."

Before I can follow through with her request, we find we are not alone. The familiar, subtle rustle of wings echoes through the night air and I don't have to turn to know who now stands behind me.

"Hello Deanna," the female Castiel speaks. "Samantha."

"Great timing, Cas," Dean mutters sarcastically as she stands upright, her hands stained a dark red, appearing almost black under the cloudy night sky.

"I would have come earlier," Cas states. "But you looked busy." She pauses to glance down at Dean's shoes while we roll our eyes at her comment. "Interesting choice in footwear."

"Yeah, I got that," Dean frowns. "Please tell us you found Gabriel. Or a way out of here."

"I have yet to uncover Gabriel's whereabouts," Cas regretfully informs us. "If Gabriel is even still alive. I have narrowed your universe down to fifty possibilities."

"That's not an entirely hopeful thought," Dean mutters under her breath as Cas gives a thoughtful pause in her speech.

"Unless..." she gradually begins. "Are there mole people in your universe?"

Dean and I frown, both in confusion and mild disgust.

"Uh, no," I shake my head and Cas nods.

"Make that forty nine," she continues as Dean and I sigh.

"You didn't come all this way just to tell us that, did you?" Dean speculates.

"No," Cas shakes her head, her long hair bouncing gracefully as she does so.

"Did you come to help us with the revenant?" Dean guesses. "Cause you're a little late."

"No, Deanna, I did not," Cas seems impatient with Dean's little guessing game. "I came to warn you of something."

I don't want to ask how this whole thing could get worse. Every time I do, I find out and I never really want to know in the first place.

"The longer you're trapped in this universe," Cas begins slowly when neither Dean or I ask her to go on. "The more difficult it will be for you to transition when we are finally able to get you back to your own universe."

Dean and I send each other a nervous, sideways glance, both certain we know what she's talking about but not particularly enthused to find out for sure.

"Which means..." Dean begins at last, hesitant to have Cas spell it out for us.

"The longer you remain in this universe," Cas goes on. "The more you become Deanna and Samantha."

"Balls," Dean grumbles.

Balls indeed. Or not, if you want to get literal.

At least we took care of the revenant.


	6. Chapter 6

We don't stay in Minneapolis. We don't stay anywhere, actually. As soon as female Cas gives us the terrible news about our predicament, Dean and I spend the next several hours in a sullen silence as she drives the Impala back towards Aunt B's. The only times we stop are to burn and bury the revenant's remains and for fuel, both for the car and us.

If we weren't both uncomfortable, tired and cranky when we left the city, we certainly are now that we've finally reached Aunt B's. And hungry. Really, really hungry.

"I just want a freaking cheeseburger," Dean grumpily slams the driver's door closed before we slowly head towards the house, her heels wobbling unstably in the gravel driveway as she walks. She pauses to sniff her under arm and makes a face. "And a bath. God that's awful."

Normal Dean has never found much concern for things like body odor, especially when we're only returning to Bobby's for some R&R. Normal Dean would also only crave a shower when it got too bad even for him. I can tell Deanna is taking over.

You know, if the heels didn't already give it away. And the diet cola. And the borderline obsession with this _Sex & Other Tales From The City_ show.

Can't deny, a bath does sound kind of nice right now.

Aunt B greets us with a smile, grilled cheese sandwiches and cocktails when we sleepily stroll into the kitchen.

"I see you were successful," she tells us cheerfully, examining the blood that still stains Dean's hands as she holds out a plate for each of us to take.

"Yep," Dean sighs, dropping her bag on the kitchen floor as she hungrily accepts the sandwich and tears into it the way I'm used to seeing my brother eat. "My god," she speaks with a mouth full of food. "This is the best damn grilled cheese I've ever had."

"I take it you missed last night's episode," Aunt B chatters as I take a long gulp of Chardonnay before biting into my own meal, the three of us still standing in the clean, bright kitchen.

"I forgot about that!" Dean's eyes go wide as she takes a sip from her vodka and cranberry cocktail to wash down the grilled cheese. "What happened? Did Mr. Grand give her the ring?"

"No," Aunt B shakes her head. "Cathy found him on another date with a younger woman."

"That son of a bitch," Dean shakes her head.

Hey, look. I want to throw up again.

"I taped it for ya," Aunt B tells Dean who looks delighted to hear this.

"Awesome!" she cries happily with a grin. "I'll watch it as soon as I take a bath."

"There'r bath salts in the upstairs bathroom," Aunt B informs us. "Help yourself. You look like you could use a little down time."

Bath salts? Really? _Really?_

I gotta stop being surprised by this crap. As much as I resist it, I should just make myself comfortable in this gender. From the sounds of things, it could be quite some time before we return to our regular, crappy universe. And that's being optimistic about it.

So Dean and I finish a late lunch and take turns enjoying a long bath in the claw foot tub upstairs before we find sweat pants and comfortable t-shirts to change into. We spend the rest of the evening watching television, eating M&Ms and popcorn. Genuinely relaxing. Which, I'll admit, feels pretty wonderful.

The next few days that follow are, for the most part, uneventful. As uneventful as things can get with two guys stuck as women, anyway. We hang out at Aunt B's, help her with chores, eat her delicious food. Dean paints her finger nails. I make an awkward attempt at shaving my legs for the first time since we got here. If anything eventful happens, it's the crazy mood swings we seem to experience. One minuet, Dean is excited for some small reason or another, the next she's sobbing at what's normally a funny adult cartoon show that threw in a touching ending. Aunt B shows me a particularly sweet old legend I find myself almost swooning over (which is really hard for me to admit), then suddenly I find myself so frustrated over a particularly feisty goat I'm trying to feed, I almost kick the damn thing.

So, you know. Situation normal. Normal now being completely weird.

Day four rolls around, which is when Dean and I experience something completely horrible. The bloated sensations we had been feeling, the unexplainable wild emotions, tiredness and cravings for junk food were all leading up to something. Something we both forgot women do and never thought we'd stick around long enough to experience.

"There's something wrong with me," is what Dean tells me, exiting the bathroom with a look of concern plastered across her face. "I feel terrible and there's... there's blood."

Come to think of it, I feel pretty terrible myself. Not sick terrible, but painful terrible. It screams at me from the pelvic region and almost radiates to my lower back.

"What's wrong?" Aunt B catches Dean's distraught look as she passes us in the hallway with a stack of clean, fluffy turquoise towels in her arms.

"I think I'm dying," Dean dramatizes the situation, bordering a panic at what we're currently experiencing. "I have this wicked pain below my stomach and I'm bleeding from a place I probably shouldn't be."

Aunt B cracks a smile while stifling a laugh that threatens to escape her throat.

"What?" Dean furrows her brows, her worried expression turning to aggravation. "It's not funny!"

"Yeah, it is," Aunt B tries not to laugh. "Congratulations. You're officially women."

For a moment, Dean says nothing while I uncomfortably dance in my place, attempting to find a position that will allow some relief from this unholy pain. She stares at Aunt B for a moment, her mind attempting to process what exactly is going on.

"You... you mean..." she begins with a slightly horrified note to her voice. "This is what women go through? Every month?"

"Yep," Aunt B nods. "For five to seven days."

While this news doesn't exactly make Dean nor I any less miserable, it certainly has shed some perspective light on Dean who silently ponders this for another moment.

"Um... what do I do?" she finally asks awkwardly.

"Check your bag," Aunt B suggests, maintaining the amused smirk she wears across her lips. "You should have some feminine products in there. If not, I'll take ya to the store and help you stock up."

"What about this pain?" I jump in. "Just an aspirin should do, right?"

"Sure," Aunt B shrugs. "It's worth a shot. I ain't had this kind of problem in a while, but when I did, Midol did the trick. That and a heating pad."

Damn. Women do this every month. _Every month_. That's twelve times a year. I don't know how they do it, but God bless them. Seriously.

We check our bags and discover Dean has a few tampons but not enough to last us a week, according to Aunt B, so she drives us to the drug store to help us find more.

"Here's what you're gonna want for the first couple of days," she tells us, handing us a blue box. "Then these should work fine for the rest of the week," she adds, handing us a slightly smaller blue box. "Then there are pads, which are good for overnight." She heaves a blue and orange package into our basket as we stroll closely behind her.

Dean checks the basket and I can tell she wants to pass out.

"Man, this sucks," she moans, eyeing the assortment of products we never once imagined we'd have to shop for in our lives. Even Jess never made me go on a tampon run.

"At least you got it," Aunt B tells us as she casually strolls the bright isles towards the pain relievers. "Don't need anymore little Deanna's running around."

Her last comment causes us to both stop dead in our tracks.

_Anymore_ Deanna's?

"Wait... _what_?" Dean shakes her head, baffled by the information that's coming our way.

Aunt B pauses in her shopping long enough to turn and face us, giving us each a confused expression.

"I'm talking about your daughter," she enlightens us. "Er, I guess it would be your son in your universe."

Let's be honest. Somewhere along the line, Dean's probably knocked up at least one chick. If this is an alternate universe, that means we have a conformation on that. Dean's a dad. Er, mom. Whatever.

"I take it you didn't know about that," Aunt B slowly gets the hint when she notices Dean's jaw drop with a dumfounded expression laced across her face.

If I said I find surprise in this information, that would be a lie. I mean, come on. There's only so much promiscuous sex a guy can have without reproducing at one point or another. The real shocker, I guess, is how we find this out. Also that there's only one little Dean running around out there. Between you and me, I kind of imagined at least a few little rug rats with his DNA existing somewhere in the continental US.

I glance over at Dean whose face has gone pale. She's not sure if she wants to ask questions, pass out or vomit this morning's cheese omelet on the black and white drugstore floor. I'm personally glad we found something to distract us from these... these _cramps_.

"How... who... what...?" she begins babbling, her tongue unable to sift through the million questions she has.

"You got pregnant about five years ago," Aunt B slowly shares, casually strolling the isles once more. "Not too long after your mom died. You never wondered about that scar you've got in the pelvic region?"

"I guess I assumed it was a monster related injury," Dean says, her mind collected enough to articulate a full sentence. "What happened?"

"You got knocked up," Aunt B shrugs. "Kept right on hunting, too. Up until Samantha and I had to force you to stop, anyhow."

"How did we do that?" I question with an amused curiosity, interested in exactly how we managed to make Dean do anything.

"Eli sent Ashley to keep an eye on her," Aunt B explains, casually picking up a white and blue box labeled Midol. "Eli and Joe traded shifts between the Roadhouse and my place while I hit the hunting trails with you."

Eli must be this universe's Ellen. I can't help the small grin that crosses my face at the visual that creates. Dean scowls.

"You put me under house arrest?" she questions with distaste.

"You bet your ass we did," Aunt B nods. "It was the only way to make sure you didn't accidentally kill the poor baby. She ended up breech, which is why they had to cut you open and give you a c-section, but we all knew that was better than getting stabbed by some demon or pushed down a flight of stairs by some spirit."

"What happened?" Dean presses. "To the baby I mean."

"You gave it up a'course," Aunt B shares as if it should be obvious, considering we haven't seen a four year old running around lately. "As much as you complain about it, there ain't no way to keep you from hunting. You didn't want to raise a kid the way you two were raised, so you put her up for adoption."

For a while, Dean doesn't say anything as we silently follow Aunt B through the small drugstore. By the look on her face I can tell she's lost in thought but, for the first time in a very long time, I can't quite tell what's on her mind. For a moment I swear I catch a fleeting look of relief cross her face, but I can't decide if that's because she did the right thing by giving it up or because she successfully gave life to a human being.

She remains silent as we pay for our products and walk out the door into the sun filled parking lot towards the Impala.

"What did I name her?" Dean asks at last, a few small tears welling in her eyes as she extracts the keys from her jacket pocket.

"Joan," Aunt B says with a soft smile. "After your mother."

I notice a small smile tug at the corners of Dean's lips. She actually looks happy about this. When I pictured Dean finding out about an illegitimate child, I always envisioned him running for the hills or denying knowing the kid's mother. Never did I actually expect to see him, her, reaction to be so... placid.

The weirdest thing about this, I find, is how weird I don't actually take this unexpected display of emotion. It's been an emotional, life altering week. I'm also pretty sure I'm over everything being so weird...

That's gotta be a bad sign, right?


	7. Chapter 7

A week draws by at a (literally) painful and slow rate, although the cramps simmer down after the first day. Once the aptly named "curse" has left us, Aunt B starts handing out potential cases once more. Dean and I happily accept a strange case that leads us to a small town not too far from Chicago, eager to return to the most normal thing in our increasingly hopeless situation.

This whole thing really is starting to feel hopeless. We haven't heard a word from Cas since she came by to tell us we're probably stuck here and no matter how many books Aunt B searches, no one's written a damn thing on multi-universal travel. If they have, no one knows where these books, scrolls or freaking carvings even exist. The thing that's really starting to bother me the most is how much I'm starting to not care about the gender we're still stuck in. It's really quite worrisome.

At least we've got a case to distract us from it for a while. From the sounds of things, it's monster related or, at the very least, another alchemist whose figured out the secret to eternal life. The article that sparked the case tells the story of a Tracy McBurger, age 32, found in an abandoned garage without his organs. My money is on monster versus alchemist since Tracy was also missing his brain.

"I wish my last name was McBurger," is what Dean has to say about it.

"You just want a hamburger," I return and she just shrugs. Dean's finally used to her vegetarian diet. Which means we've officially been here for way too long.

We put in a call to Aunt B and have her research monsters that might steal all the important parts of a human body while Dean and I do research on McBurger. Turns out, Tracy wasn't well liked by, well, anyone and that includes his own mother.

"He was always a little prat," his English mother willingly informs us. "I mean, I loved him. He was my son. I had to, right? He just didn't care about other people. Whatever he did, it was to benefit Tracy, even if that meant hurting other people."

The way she says this, we can tell she speaks from personal experience. My guess? Tracy probably sold something that belonged to her that had heavy value, cash wise or sentimental wise. Maybe both.

When we talk to his sister, we discover Tracy was in the auto parts business. He stole high end cars, preferring the classics with original parts, and stripped them of their essential pieces. Regular Dean would have found this absolutely horrifying and figured the guy had it coming. Deanna, while not entirely anxious to find this asshole's killer, mostly shrugs it off. I personally find it hard to care much about the mutilated cars or the fact this particular victim bit the dust, but it doesn't make the organ robbing creature any less of a monster. It is kind of our job to lay things like that to rest.

While we're attempting to uncover exactly what kind of monster we're looking for, another strange crime happens. The crime itself isn't all that strange; a 53 year old man, Greg Holt, is found beaten to death at a child's playground. What makes this particular crime a bit unusual is the unknown assailant is described as "small, between three and a half to four and a half feet tall", according to the article. Granted, this doesn't exactly scream monster and the chances of us stumbling upon two separate cases in the same town is pretty slim, but we've checked into less. There's also that "hunch" feeling we get when we read the local paper that we can't just ignore.

Greg's coworkers at an insurance company are shocked anyone would want to harm him. He seemed to be a decent guy, they recall, and a good salesman. He didn't even know any "little people". His ex-wives - all three of them - have something different to say. Turns out, Greg was a bit of an alcoholic who'd get tipsy and start knocking his spouse around. The kids, his ex's all reported, got the worst of it.

"He was horrible to them," wife number three shudders as she shares this with us. "Beat them black and blue for no reason at all. Not that I'm glad he died but, if you ask me, he got his just desert."

This simple comment causes Dean and I to give each other a knowing sideways glance.

"Cas," Dean prays once we've made our way back to the privacy of our motel room. "Get your skinny ass down here. We may have..."

"I'm here," Cas appears before Dean can finish her sentence. "I believe I've located Gabriel. I have reason to suspect she's in this town."

"Ya think?" Dean rolls her eyes at the angel. Pause. "How come you never told me I have a kid?"

Cas furrows her brows in confusion at the question.

"I didn't think I had to," she says. "You were present for the thirty-nine weeks you carried her. You seemed fully aware." She pauses, thinking hard for a few minuets. "You never knew about your child in your universe, did you?"

"No, I didn't," Dean almost seems angry that her celestial "bff" never shared this with her.

"I suppose that is a better question for your universe's Castile then, don't you think?" Cas points out. "I will sweep the town for signs of my sister and bring her to you."

She vanishes in a whisper of wings as my heart rate skips a beat or five. I'm so excited at the prospect of going home I'm actually giddy. Not just excited, but giddy. Which is strange enough on it's own, so it's weird that I'm kind of sad about it at the same time. It's not leaving this gender for the right one that gives a slight rise to my emotions. Dean and I have grown pretty close to Aunt B. She's been beyond helpful and I know I'm going to miss her.

"God I hope it's Gabriel," Dean rolls her eyes and, while I know she's being sincere, I can detect the hint of sorrow that hides in her tone. "I'm... uh... I'm gonna call Aunt B real quick. Let her know she can call off the monster research."

She digs her argyle cased phone from her jacket pocket and quietly moves about the room in an attempt to find a somewhat private corner to make her call.

"Tell her I say goodbye," I say and she sends me look of mild embarrassment as she holds the phone to her ear.

"Aunt B?" she speaks into the device. "Listen, we think we found the thing that's doing all this. We think it's Gabriel. Yeah. Cas just stopped by, she's pretty sure it's the archangel. Uh huh. Sure. Thanks anyway. Hey, listen. If it is Gabriel and we get to go home, I just wanted to say thanks for all the help you've given us. I'm... uh... we're really gonna miss you. Okay. Yeah, you too. Bye."

When she ends the call, I catch the lone tear that slides down her face from the corner of her eye. Normally I would have made fun of Dean for crying about something like this, but this time I don't. Not only do I understand the whole "we're experiencing estrogen" thing, I kind of feel like crying too.

"Hello, chuckle heads."

Dean and I spin around to see girl Cas along with another female we've never laid eyes upon before. Dirty blonde hair dances just above a set of skinny shoulders that are covered by a plain white t-shirt under a blue gas station smock. The thin, almost flat chested woman wears dirty blue jeans, worn black sneakers and a sly grin upon her small lips.

We may have never seen her before, but the fact that she called us chuckle heads tells us we know her.

"Gabriel?" Dean narrows her eyes at the angel whose smile only widens.

"In the flesh," she confirms before taking a sizable bite from a Snicker's bar.

"We thought you were dead," I tell her and she giggles.

"I know," she wiggles her brows. "I'm good at faking my own death, remember?"

"You did this to us?" Dean's curiosity grows into anger as her fingers ball into hard fists.

"Technically no," Gabriel says. "I sent Deanna and Samantha into an alternate universe. Apparently an alternate version of myself did the same thing to you two."

"Why?" is what I want to know and Gabriel playfully rolls her eyes.

"Because you two are fun to mess with," she states, as if the answer should have been obvious this entire time. "Besides, I couldn't have you two chuckle heads telling everyone I wasn't really dead. Again."

"You son of a..." Dean begins, stepping forward in what looks like an attempt to punch the angel.

"Calm down," I interrupt, stepping in to prevent both Dean from getting violent and Gabriel from taking flight. Or doing something much, much worse. "I don't know why you insist on playing dead, but I don't think I care so long as you send us back to the right universe. We don't belong here."

Gabriel eyes me, her expression suggesting she's uncertain whether or not she wants to send us home.

"Cas," Dean looks to her friend for help on convincing the archangel to set things right. "Help us out here, huh?"

"They're right," Cas at last steps into the conversation. "This is not their universe. Send them back."

"We won't tell anyone you're still alive," I promise.

"Even if it is cowardly," Dean mumbles under her breath, a comment that receives a quick glare from the three of us.

"Fine," Gabriel sighs, though the way she says this tells me she didn't really need all that much convincing.

"How long were you going to keep us here, anyway?" I wonder aloud and the grin returns to the archangel's face.

"Until you found me," she shrugs. My brows fold into a frown.

"That could have taken decades!" Dean cries and Gabriel rolls her eyes again.

"You girls always take the long road," she states. "This whole time you were here, you prayed to Cas. You didn't think that maybe, just maybe, all you had to do was pray to me?"

This is partially why I hate Gabriel. Not only does he, she, it like to mess with us, she always makes us feel stupid about it later. Like we deserve it.

"You're free to go," she tells us when Dean and I find we're too annoyed to speak.

"How?" Dean angrily asks, her own brows furrowed in a stern distaste. Gabriel casually motions to the wooden motel door.

"The way you came in," is all she says.

Dean and I stare at the closed door for a moment before exchanging an uncertain glance. Our eyes search for reassurance from Cas who gives us a gentile nod.

"Go," she insists. "I'll wait for you on the other side." Pause. "Rather, I'll wait for Samantha and Deanna on the other side. I'm sure your universe's version of me will be waiting for you as well."

Dean looks to me once more and we both shrug. It's worth a shot, right? If Cas says it's okay it's gotta be. Right?

I take in a deep breath and slowly exhale as we walk towards the door. My finger's shake in a mixture of excitement and nervousness as they reach for the brass door knob. Slowly we open the door to expose what looks like the motel parking lot basking under a hot Illinois sun. Cas stands just outside while Gabriel remains in the motel room behind us.

"Come on," the archangel impatiently groans. "Go already. I don't have all day."

Dean and I carefully step through the threshold and, as we do, find ourselves consumed by a blinding white light. It lasts for a second or two at the most and, when it's gone, we find that we stand in that sun filled parking lot. The Impala is still parked a few spaces down, the soda vending machine still hums from its spot a few paces to the left, the birds still chirp. Cas stands before us and I want to fall to my knees when I notice that _he_ is there.

Not girl Cas. Regular old male Castiel.

"Thank friggin' God," Dean mutters and, glancing over, I notice he's back to normal as well.

"I take it you've returned home," Cas states as I stare down at my hands to find that I, too, have been restored.

"Of course they did," a male calls from the room behind us. "I wouldn't send them to a third universe. I'm not _that_ mean."

When Dean and I spin around we find an unfamiliar male we assume is Gabriel in a fresh vessel; a lanky young man with short dirty blonde hair dressed similarly to the woman version we met only moments ago in an entirely different universe. He grins at us as he bites off a chuck of his candy bar.

"Welcome home, boys," he says with that old trickster twinkle in his eye. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a job to quit and a new town to live in." He pauses only to allow his grin to widen. "See you two chuckle heads around."

"We better friggin' not!" Dean angrily yells at nobody when the angle disappears. "Swear to god, if he wasn't so hard to kill, I'd have killed him by now."

Right now, I don't really care that last comment didn't make a whole lot of sense. I'm just glad to hear Dean's voice again. His real voice.

"Damn it's good to see you, Cas," Dean comments and, for a second, it looks like my brother's about to hug the awkward angel. That is until his brows crease into anger once more. "Why the hell did you never tell me about my kid?"

"I didn't think you were ready to know," Cas explains with a simple shrug, lacking surprise in Dean's sudden question.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean mutters with an irritated voice.

"Look," I attempt to coax my brother's frustrations down with a bit of perspective. "Let's just enjoy the fact that we're in the right universe, alright? Go see Bobby, grab some beers and some burgers?"

Dean's face almost lights up when I mention the favored food he's been unable to eat for weeks.

"We'll worry about your kid later, okay?" I go on when his expression only softens a little. "I think we deserve a few normal days before we swing back into completely crazy."

"Alright," Dean grumbles at last. "I could use a bacon cheese burger and a few dozen shots right about now." He pauses to send an angry look at his celestial friend. "But don't you go too far. I'm not done yelling at you yet."

"I think you are," Cas just says with a small smile. "Regardless, I will return when you next need me. By the way, welcome home."


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you're telling us there were two girls running around in our bodies?" Dean's garbled words push themselves through a mouthful of burger.

"Yep," Bobby nods as he rises from his seat at the kitchen table. "You boys want another beer?"

"Hell yes," Dean jumps at the offer before he can swallow his food. "Damn it's good to hear you call us that again, by the way."

Bobby just grins at the comment. He clearly finds the whole thing highly amusing. I'm personally fairly certain I won't find the humor in this for, well, ever. It might have shed some perspective on the female gender, but I still fail to find any of the last few weeks funny.

"What did we do?" Dean is curious to know what exactly Deanna did to his body while he was trapped in hers.

"Probably everything you 'ijits did in that other universe," Bobby replies as he hands us each a cool brown bottle of cheap ale before returning to his seat beside Dean.

"I find that hard to believe," I mutter into my beer. The first thing that comes to mind is the "curse" that we, as males, don't experience. The second thing that comes to mind is the time "Deanna" wore high heals to that revenant hunt, which actually sparks a hilarious visual of my brother (the regular version) in a pair of the feminine shoes.

"You, I mean they, were kind of confused at first," Bobby attempts to detail his experience with the female versions of us trapped in our male bodies. "Dean looked particularly perturbed about my usual mess." He pauses to chew over a question he's not entirely sure he wants the answer to. "I wasn't all that different in that other universe, was I?"

"We called you Aunt B," Dean states in a flat tone. Bobby shudders.

"Forget I asked," he says, not wanting anymore detail beyond that. "Anyway, I sent you boys or whatever the hell you were on a case or two. Mostly you, they, hung out around here."

"They didn't do anything weird to us while we were... them... did they?" Dean questions before washing down his food with a long swill of beer.

"They didn't put on any makeup or wear high heels, if that's what ya mean," Bobby shakes his head.

Dean quietly looks down at his burger, finding embarrassment in what was otherwise a simple response. He tries not to look guilty as he shoves a massive bite into his mouth to prevent him from revealing any details. I occupy my own guilty lips by taking an incredibly long swig from my bottle while Bobby eyes us suspiciously.

"Do I even want to know what that look was for?" he wrinkles his nose.

"No," I quickly respond. "Did, uh, 'we' do anything noteworthy?"

"Not really," Bobby shrugs. "For a few days both of ya were kind of disgusted by the whole gender swap, but by the time Gabriel showed his mug again, ya seemed pretty well adjusted. Hell, you seemed to almost like it. Especially about a week ago. You kept looking at the calendar and giving each other high five's."

Dean and I shudder at the memory of last week. Sounds like Deanna and Samantha enjoyed their month off.

"Look," Bobby hesitantly begins, glancing at Dean as his tone grows more serious. "Dean, er, 'Deanna' told me something about, well, you while you were gone."

Dean cocks a brow, slowly chewing his lunch as he curiously eyes Bobby.

"What's that?" he asks after a moment of thought before it comes to him. "She told you I have a kid, didn't she?"

"Uh, yeah, actually," Bobby gives my brother a curious frown. "How'd you know?"

"Aunt B told me," Dean shrugs with a calm tone as Bobby shudders again.

"I can't believe there's a universe where you call me that," he comments, attempting to wash this visual away with a long pull from his own beer bottle.

"If it makes you feel any better," I begin with a somewhat sarcastic smile. "There are actually hundreds of universes where we call you Aunt B."

"It doesn't," Bobby shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at me as I remind him of the infinite number of universes that actually exist. "Back to Dean havin' a kid," he quickly continues. "You seem awful calm about it."

"Yeah," Dean shrugs. "I've had time to digest it." He pauses to allow a small, satisfied belch pass his lips. "I mean, I was kinda pissed at Cas for not telling me about it. But now... I donno. It's kinda cool knowing you've got a little piece of yourself running around out there."

Bobby gives Dean a dumfounded look. Obviously, that wasn't the reaction Bobby was expecting. It wouldn't be the reaction I'd have expected either, had I not been with Dean when he first found out. That, plus the fact we're probably still riding a little bit of that estrogen wave. We're back to normal, but not one hundred percent, not yet.

I wonder how long it'll take us to get back to normal? I have to remember to ask Cas next time we see him.

"Are you enjoying being home?" an unexpected voice speaks from somewhere behind me. I whirl around to see Cas standing between the kitchen and the living room wearing a small smile on his lips.

"Hell yes," Dean replies. He lets out a long, satisfied sigh as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "Damn I love red meat. Sammy, remind me to never go vegetarian."

"I doubt you'll need a reminder," I say. "Hey, Cas. Out of curiosity, how long were we in that other universe?"

"About a month," Cas speculates and I roll my eyes.

"Obviously," I sigh. "I mean, alternate universe Cas warned us the longer we were there, the longer it would take us to readjust to our regular universe."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Cas assures us, slowly striding towards the kitchen table while he speaks. "It shouldn't take more than a week for you to fully recover."

While it's longer than I wanted to rid my mind of girl Sam, I'm just really glad we made it back. I shudder to think of being trapped in that other place for the rest of my life.

"Dean," Cas speaks, his eyes falling to my older brother. "Would you like to see your son?"

Dean calmly takes a sip of beer as he thinks this over. Bobby and I stare at him as he ponders this opportunity, both of us more than interested in learning what his decision will be.

"Yeah, I guess so," he finally says with a shrug. "I don't know how many opportunities I'll get to meet him. Where is he?"

"I will take you to him," Cas says, extending his hands towards Dean and myself.

"Wait a minuet - !" Dean begins to object to Cas's mode of transportation, but his words are cut short. Before we can blink, we're standing outside on some playground under a warm afternoon sun.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean mutters. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry," Cas apologizes, though his voice lacks sincerity. "I thought this would be the best time for you to see him."

"Where is he?" Dean wonders, his eyes scanning over each and every kid that runs around the colorful plastic equipment. Cas points and it doesn't take either of us long to spot the kid he's trying to show us.

The little boy, Dean's son, is the spitting image of my brother when he was four. Dark hair, hazely green eyes. He's even wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt.

I break my gaze on the boy to study Dean and his silent reaction. I don't know if it's the remaining estrogen or the fact that this would be an emotional thing for anyone to witness. Either way, I can spot the tears that well in his eyes as he lets out a small gasp.

"Who... who's his mother?" Dean wants to know.

"Her name was Autumn," Cas replies and I can tell Dean recognizes the name, despite the fact he seems unwilling to elaborate on the details.

"What do you mean 'was'?" Dean wants to know.

"Johnny!" a woman's voice calls out and we all watch as the little boy in Dean's image runs happily to a blonde couple who stand at the edge of the playground.

"Wait, who are _they_?" Dean's question changes and I can almost hear his heart break as "Johnny" runs into the woman's arms and the man lovingly pats his head.

"Lily and Aaron Hemsworth," Cas replies as Dean stares at the loving scene before us. "Jonathan's adoptive parents."

For a while, nobody say anything. I wait for my brother to say something, anything, half expecting him to slowly strut over and introduce himself.

"Do they love him?" he whispers quietly at last as a single tear unleashes itself from his right eye and slides down his face. "Do they take good care of him?"

"Yes," Cas replies and Dean nods.

"Good," Dean nods, blinking back any remaining tears. "Let's go back to Bobby's."

"That's it?" I want to know, somewhat shocked my brother made no attempt to at least talk to the kid.

"Yeah," Dean says with a small, sad shrug. "I saw him. He's happy. He's cared for. It's a better life than I could have given him."

"You're not even going to say hello?" I wonder aloud.

"No," Dean shakes his head. "I saw all I needed to see. Besides, he's a little kid. For all he knows, those two are his real parents. I don't want to go and screw him up for life." Pause. "Maybe when he's older I swing by and say hello."

"Wow," I say. "How uncharacteristically mature of you."

Dean shrugs again and lets a small smile spread across his lips.

"Okay, Cas," he says, looking at the angel. "Take us back to Bobby's." Pause. "Wait. Forget that. Take us to a strip club."

There it is. I knew that "maturity" thing couldn't last long. I never thought I'd be so happy to hear Dean say that.

As screwed up as our normal is, I couldn't be happier to have it right now.

**AN: There you have it. The episode that never was when Dean and Sam were girls. And also Dean has a kid. I mean, come on. There's gotta be at least one out there, right? I refuse to believe that Amazon chick was the first to have one of Dean's kids. It's just so unlikely.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Until next time...**


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